


Petit Adagio for a Young Lover

by athousandwinds



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: F/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athousandwinds/pseuds/athousandwinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Autor has a ~crush~.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petit Adagio for a Young Lover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lusa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lusa/gifts).



Autor adjusted his glasses nervously and cleared his throat. "Miss Rue," he said politely, "my name is Autor. I have often seen you dancing and I wondered – that is, I mean – if Herr Pinguin is busy, perhaps – if I might be permitted to play for you?"

His reflection looked back at him with disgust. "Really, now," it might have been supposed to be saying, "Do you honestly expect a feeble speech like that to impress Miss Rue? When you can't even read it off cue cards without stammering? Miss Rue must hear pitiful efforts like that every day."

Autor swallowed, laid his cue cards down carefully, and brushed his hair into place again. He'd done all he could to channel Drosselmeyer's power into writing this speech. At first, he had considered composing a nocturne in her honour, but he had eventually rejected the idea as being too indirect. Besides, she might not even hear it. The ballet students rarely mixed with the music students, and the same with fine art. There was a distinct frostiness between all departments, for little reason other than that each of them considered their discipline to be the pinnacle of human achievement in artistry. (They were all wrong, of course. Writing was.)

He'd seen Miss Rue almost by accident. She and that ungrateful heir had been partnered and, although he'd meant to confront that awful Fakir, somehow he'd forgotten. There was something so indescribably sad in her graceful movements that he'd been struck to the bone and lost all his powers of sensible thought in a minute. He hadn't thought – it wasn't supposed to happen like that, not to _him_. That sort of thing happened in books, in the awful drivel of the romance genre.

He sighed, swallowed, and picked up his cue cards again.


End file.
